Downfall
by Pyro Psychotic
Summary: "The Doctor always thought he could best anything. This time he was wrong."  Will be M later for violence, torture and other stuff.  9th Doctor whump! no real pairing. OoC and possibly AU. Enjoy and be fair with reviews!
1. I Walk, I Crawl

This is just a taste of a dream I had. Surprisingly, there is no slash at all in any of it. In this dream I was seeing everything through the 9th Doctor's eyes. If it seems to not fit canon, it's not supposed to. This is some random dream I've had for almost a week. I'm also sorry if the Characters are wacky. it's my imagination. If you've ever read any of my stuff before you know this is tame in comparison.

Warnings: Will be forth Coming if anyone wants to actually see this in its entirety. For right now I will just say violence.

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><p>Falling…<p>

Falling…

Falling…

**CRASH!**

A frantic call

"Rose!"

"ROSE!"

Then he remembers.

He remembers Rose falling out of the TARDIS once they got into her London and hopefully landing safely.

He remembers trying to park the wildly flying machine as it smacks against buildings. He finally gets her to stop in a vacant alley near the shopping district.

He remembers stumbling away from the console, grimacing as the sudden movement jars the wound in his left side, made by an angry plasma blast. He had forgotten it in all the commotion to get Rose and him to safety. Now it wouldn't stop screaming, but it would have to wait.

He had to find Rose first.

He staggers out of the TARDIS, barely remembering to close the door. He leans on the outside of the TARDIS for support while he gains his breath back.

He walks shakily for a few steps before he hears a deafening thunder crack and feels a searing burn that leaves him dazed and confused; the sky is a clear robin's egg blue. He slowly recovers his wits and suddenly intense pain is tearing through his nervous system, nearly paralyzing his mind again. He closes his eyes against the pain and focuses solely on breathing, deeply in and deeply out, setting a calming pace after several shaky first attempts. The pain had knocked him to his knees, jarring both his wounds and sending fresh waves of agony to crash and break over his wind, threatening to drown him in their overwhelming combined might.

After a few painful minutes of breathing, the Doctor manages to struggle to his feet and continue moving out of the alley. He rounds a corner, coming into an open square mildly crowded with shoppers, too utterly engrossed in their own wanderings and purchases to notice him. He continues to stagger slightly, bumping into several people, all which shoot him dirty looks. He stumbles but manages to catch himself before he hits the ground. He continues walking, rounding another corner to leave the shops and find Rose, but finally his legs give out and he collapses in front of a girl with light-ish brown hair and clear green-blue eyes. He hits the ground with a thud and his eyes flutter shut, all-consuming darkness stealing him away from the pain.


	2. Mortal Intervention and Feline Approval

Hey eveyone! I'm back! I'll include more detail and a longer AN later when i have more time but please read and review!

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><p>Molly was enjoying a fun time out shopping. Mostly she had just been wandering, not really buying anything. She was just killing time so she didn't have to spend all day with her cats at home. She had been rounding a corner when a strange man collapsed in front of her, his battered leather jacket unusually warm for early summer.<p>

She crouches down, gently shaking him and not receiving a response. It was strange that no one else seemed to notice him, as they were all walking past without concern. They must just assume he was a drunk stumbling home after a long night.

Only there weren't any bars the way he came from, just mostly old abandoned buildings and the occasional jumpy bum. She never traveled anywhere near there without a friend. He also doesn't look the type to be homeless, except for maybe his jacket. He actually looks like an ex-soldier, with his short-ish hair and war-hardened features only softened by unconsciousness.

"Sir, are you okay? Do you need a hospital?" Her voice slowly gains worry that fades as his eyes open.

"I don't need a hospital. I'm fine." The strange man says as he sits up, a pained grimace tightening his features and straining his northern accent.

Molly isn't convinced.

"You need help." She said shaking her head, one hand settling absently on her hip.

The stranger grins widely, as if remembering a private joke. "I've been told that a lot. Never listened. I'm fine now anyways, so thanks for your help, and I'll be going. Tootles." With that he jumps to his feet and walks around the corner behind her.

She waits for a moment before following him. For some reason she doesn't want to leave him be and knew she'd kick herself later if something happened to him if she could prevent it.

Rounding the corner just in time to see him collapse again, Molly runs over to him. She drops to her knees next to him, gently turning him over and scanning for any injuries. Finding none apparent, she mutters "You're definitely going to a hospital now" as she pulls her mobile out of her pocket. She's about to dial when a hand grabs her phone and shuts it.

"No hospitals." He sets her phone down next to her, as mist locks onto clear turquoise driving his point home.

Once he seems sure she understands, he promptly passes out.

"Wait, I didn't get...your name," she trails off, staring at the serene features of this stranger that are marred only by unconscious flinches.

She knows he doesn't want a hospital, but what choice does she have? It's not like….. 'No, forget it, Molly! There is no way you can haul close to 200 lbs. of dead weight all the way to your flat! You can barely lift a 5 lb. sack of potatoes!' She mentally berates herself. She looks down at him, shook her head and sighs. "This is a bad idea, but it's the best I've got right now." She puts the nagging doubt out of her mind, hooks her arms through his armpits, around his shoulders and pulls him up.

Carefully she lifts him to his feet, switching her grip so he is half leaning on her and cautiously takes a few steps forward. When she doesn't lose her grip or drop him, her courage soars, letting her take more steps until she is nearly at her walking pace. She briefly thinks how this might look to anyone watching, a loving sister walking her extremely drunk brother home after a really late night. At least she hopes that's how it looks, so no one thinks twice about her. Otherwise this would be very embarrassing to attempt to explain.

She is amazed after walking only 20 minutes to discover she is nearly home. _'I must have been closer than I thought,'_ she thinks as she approaches the bottom of the staircase leading to up to her third floor apartment.

"Ugh! Why do I have to live on the third floor at a time like this?" she complains to the unconscious form she is supporting before she blows out a breath as she walks towards the first set.

Pulling 200 lbs of dead weight up 3 flights of stairs when you can barely haul 5 lbs up those same stairs is something Molly never wants to do again. She was so thankful that she lived next to the stairs on her floor.

Shoving him a little roughly so he slumps firmly against the wall, she digs into her pocket for her key before mentally slapping herself and pulling it out from under her emerald green t-shirt, sliding it into the lock swiftly. She manages just barely to drag him inside before she hears one of her neighbors door opening. Breathing a small sigh of relief, Molly picks the stranger up once more, dragging/carrying him to her spare room. With that done she decides to use her moderate first aid skills and see what's wrong with him. Though if he's just cuckoo for cocoa puffs, there really isn't anything she can do to help that.

Getting him out of his battered leather jacket reveals his main reason for passing out. Two wounds gouge out both sides of his torso, the right fresh and oozing blood while the left merely trickles out the life giving substance, causing her to immediately strip him of his ruined jumper and press a washcloth she had gotten out of her bathroom to the right wound tightly, ignoring the left for now.

Reaching for her first-aid kit, Molly pulls out various bandages and creams, working tirelessly to attend to all visible wounds. After she finishes, she walks to her room and pulls an oversized t-shirt and sweat pants that once belonged to her boyfriend out of her dresser. Redressing him with a faint blush dusting her cheeks, Molly tucks him in and leaves the room, the door remaining open in case he wakes up.

Sighing for what must have been the millionth time that day, she sets food down for both her cats before calling "Fayt! Tommy! Come get it, you two!" and watching as two black blurs streaked across the living room, stopping with practiced ease mere centimeters from knocking their bowls over. Chuckling at their food ritual, Molly makes herself a sandwich and sits down on the floor next to them, all three taking comfort in the others' presences.

Once they all finish, she interrupts their normal routine of T.V. before a walk to check on her unexpected house guest. When she stays with him longer than their liking, the felines decide to see why their momma is so distracted.

They are both apprehensive at first about the intruder lying in the bed meant for visitors, but they both sense that he is hurt and jump up next to him, sharing their surprising warmth with a complete stranger. Fayt curls next to his right side, blue eyes staring into his face, while Tommy circles up neatly on the man's slow raising and falling chest, bright green orbs peering almost scrutinizingly at the man, appearing to be trying to decide if this man was good or not. He keeps his gaze while lowering his head, body relaxing but eyes never shutting.

Molly watches the exchange with a warm smile, settling into her chair more as the exhaustion she had avoided earlier with adrenaline returned with a vengeance to drag her peacefully into slumber.


End file.
